Before Sunlight

by THEODORE MORRISON

Now the star-lifted night cheek of the world
Turns eastward, and her dream of dark
Becomes a dream of brightness. Hark,
The sun’s lips hunt us from the abyss
Like shining horns hid in a depth of wood.
You in my arm’s crook sleep against my kiss
Dreaming your own calm dream or sleeping still
Without a dream. Deep is the calm and deep
The secret revery you keep.
Ah, lie forever motionless as this
While a rich host of moments glides away
And yet the spell that binds them does not die!
But no, the sun is posting from the wood
And soon will burst out from his shadowy lair
With all his trumpets, blasting the dull air
To mica-twinkling flame. Ah, wake with me.
To wake is also good
When the light whispers to the dreamless ground.
The plum tree bough like a gray spider’s knee
Squats by the window, and the meadow lark
Makes his first drooping flight. And still you sleep
With calm deep breath lying against my kiss.
The lark and the gray plum tree can beguile
Only a sleeper’s fluttering smile
To show that your deep dream turns with the world,
To show whose lips have reached you from the abyss.